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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27327694">Johnny Got His Anime Figurine</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeyandjam/pseuds/wrenlans'>wrenlans (honeyandjam)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Tales of Haunted Doll!Taeyong [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>NCT (Band), SuperM (Korea Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dark, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Gen, Horror, Incontinence, Other, Psychological Horror, actually more like anime figurine, haunted doll!taeyong, inspired by pulp horror, johnny's a streamer</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 11:00:37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,741</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27327694</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeyandjam/pseuds/wrenlans</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Johnny lives only for himself. The only thing he's looking out for is number one. <br/>But then a mysterious figurine is sent his way. <br/>A figurine from nowhere, from no one, and only for Johnny...</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Lee Taeyong &amp; Suh Youngho | Johnny, Nakamoto Yuta &amp; Suh Youngho | Johnny</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Tales of Haunted Doll!Taeyong [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1865578</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Johnny Got His Anime Figurine</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>happy late halloween ;-;<br/>inspired by this <a href="https://mobile.twitter.com/paratazxis/status/1263094782114648064">third eye-opening thread</a></p><p>Originally posted 11/1/2020</p><p>EDITED [1/17/2021] changed the spacing, description and some tags </p><p>gotta make it known that I bear absolutely no ill will towards johnny or taeyong at all, all of this is fiction and i truly love johnny and taeyong with all my heart and wish them only the best.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dusk slowly settles over the city, the sun sinking lazily into the west. Deep reds and oranges streak across the sky in a stunning show of nature at its most beautiful. Not that Johnny will notice anyway. His blinds are pulled shut and the light from his bulbs are barely there. He’s barely aware of what the weather is like, and doesn’t need to as he clicks away leisurely at his keyboard and monologues for his online audience. </p><p>“-raiderzy has a good point though, like streamers provide so much niche content for you guys, and we don’t even have the budget of like these netflix or hulu shows. I mean I would say my content is worth a lot more than hers anyway, because she’s just sitting there on her ass in like, thigh-highs and short shorts talking her head off about bullshit that guys only watch to jack off too. And she knows it, obviously. That’s why she wears the stuff she’s wearing, and got all that makeup on and shit.”</p><p>He pauses to pull off a particularly tricky combo on the last remaining player, only continuing when the “Victory Royale” banner flashes on the screen.</p><p>“Look at this shit guys, this takes skill, and talent. You all know I only get top 5 in rankings every time I stream and play. If anything, I deserve subs a lot more than her. A lot of other streamers deserve subs more than her, and yet she’s the one that brought up this whole begging schtick. It’s more like…. tips. Like I’m providing a service, and I’m doing really well at this service, so tipping would be the polite thing to do. It’s not that hard guys, $5 isn’t a lot for you, but it means a lot to the streamers. I’m just saying, she actually had a good point, if she wasn’t being such a bitch about it.” He leans back into his gaming chair and flexes his neck, revelling in the loud cracks of air bubbles popping in synovial fluid. </p><p>He looks at the chat, and big surprise, it’s full of shit. Johnny rolls his eyes and goes into his goodbye routine, thanking the people who subbed and subtly trying to shame everyone else who didn’t. He’s rushing his goodbyes, eager to get up and throw hands with who he assumes is his roommate, who’s been knocking relentlessly at his door for the past 10 minutes. Jesus Christ, does Yuta literally have nothing better to do? After he closes his streaming monitor and takes off his headset, he stumbles to the door, forcefully swinging it open. </p><p>“What the fuck is wrong with you Yuta!” He groans. “Do you not see the ‘I’m streaming, fuck off’ sign?” </p><p>The shorter man shoots Johnny a scathing glare as he replies, “What sign jackass?” He slams his palm on the door for emphasis. </p><p>The door is bare and Johnny runs a hand through greasy, stringy hair. He looks around and sees the sign lying on the floor at the foot of his desk. Whoops. </p><p>“Yeah ok whatever, what do you want?” He rubs at his eyes, scowling at Yuta. </p><p>Yuta lobs a cardboard box into Johnny’s midsection, who fumbles around with it before dropping it with a loud thump. </p><p>“This was addressed to your name.” The last thing he says before he steps away, eager to distance himself from Johnny. </p><p>Johnny picks the cardboard box up. It’s not very big, about the size of a plastic food container. The label just has his address and the return address on it, which is from South Korea. Huh. He decides that he might as well air fry up some chicken tenders while opening up the package. He ignores Yuta, who’s sitting at their tiny kitchen table and eating a lame-ass, boring salad. He tips a box of frozen tenders into the air fryer and grabs some scissors to cut open the box. A mound of bubble wrap pops out and Johnny groans.</p><p> He gets to work wrestling through the layers and layers of bubble wrap and sticky tape, tossing the mess at a snickering Yuta, who easily dodges the trash. Johnny is left with a figurine and a small white card. He reads the card, or tries to, but it’s in Korean, and he hasn’t read Korean in 12 years. He throws it aside to look at the figurine. It’s about the height of a ballpoint pen, and it’s a figurine of what seems to be an anime guy. His pose is just him standing, arms straight down his side, one slender leg just slightly in front of the other. The guy’s black plastic hair is styled pretty generic, and his clothes aren’t anything special either, black jeans and a black and yellow striped sweater. The stand attached is just plain black plastic, save for the engraving on base. </p><p>“T…..Y…?” Johnny reads out, thick eyebrows furrowed in annoyance. </p><p>He gets the paper card and runs it through Google Translate. There’s not a lot to translate though. </p><p>[ Happy birthday man! Very congratulations. Enjoy quality TY Track. Love, Great Uncle. ] </p><p>“You ever heard of a TY Track?” </p><p>Yuta swipes the figurine from the table. “No, what’s it from?” </p><p>“I don’t know, what do I look like, a weeb?” Johnny looks thoughtfully at the label. “What kind of dumbass name is TY Track anyway?"</p><p>All Johnny gets in response is a non-committal grunt and shrug from Yuta, who is inspecting the figurine with absentminded interest. </p><p>Johnny just makes a face and snatches his figurine back. </p><p>He fumbles out his phone and Googles ’ty track anime’. </p><p>Nothing </p><p>He tries again, with ’TY Track anime character’ </p><p>Nothing again. </p><p>He tries every possible combination of those words that he can think of. He even opens up Google Translate to get Japanese results, and nothing comes up. What utter bullshit, he thinks. Suddenly he snaps his fingers together. Reverse image search, duh! </p><p>He takes as clear a picture as he can and watches the little loading circle go round and round, fingers tapping impatiently on the wooden table as he waits. The results finally load and he gets… </p><p>Nothing. </p><p>Johnny is really stumped this time now. He takes a few more pictures, close ups on the face, on the engraving, on his clothes. But no such luck. Google isn’t giving him anything. As far as Google’s concerned, TY doesn’t exist. Johnny’s frown only deepens as he gets up to plate up his tendies and shoves one in his mouth before trying to tackle the figurine mystery again. </p><p>Yuta’s also looking at it with interest now, hands once again all over his figurine. “Have you tried it with manhwa, or korean anime?” </p><p>Johnny shakes his head, but immediately grabs his phone and inputs the new combo of words. It doesn’t seem like that big a difference to him, but he’ll take what he can get. Even though it doesn’t work either. He even tries putting it through Korean in Google Translate, but once again, it’s like TY doesn’t even exist. </p><p>Frustrated and feeling like he just wasted his time for nothing, he gathers all of the bubble wrap and tape together with the figurine and unceremoniously shoves it all back in the cardboard box. He dunks the lot into the kitchen bin, and goes back to his plate of chicken. </p><p>“Wow rude, international posting is a lot of money.” Yuta drawls, stealing a tender. </p><p>“Even if I read or watched that shit, I literally have no idea who that is. It’s useless to me.” </p><p>“Your poor uncle, sending you TY just for your birthday only for you to treat it like trash.” Yuta emphasises the ’trash’ a la Danny Devito style. </p><p>“Ok, one, my birthday was half a year ago, and two, my parents don’t even do jack shit for me, I didn’t even know I had a great uncle.” He scowls in reply, shoving tenders in his mouth. </p><p>Johnny thinks nothing else of the figurine for the rest of the day, stomach full and head empty, falling straight into his bed.</p>
<hr/><p>Johnny wakes up at who knows what time. Certainly not him, with his blinds and curtains shut tightly. He only knows whether it’s day or night by checking his phone. It’s not like it matters anyway, he thinks as he gets up and shuffles into the bathroom to shower. Rise and grind he thinks cynically as he rakes through his wet brown hair with soap. After a barely passable shower, he turns the taps off and dries off, throwing on a pair of grey sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt before going to boot up his PC. </p><p>He plops down at his desk and absentmindedly drums his fingers on his desk while watching the windows loading circle round and round. His eyes wander around his bare-bones room, the only things inhabiting the space are cardboard boxes of clothes, a bed with old, tattered blankets, and the only thing worth actual value, his gaming setup. It’s pretty impressive if Johnny says so himself. He’s so engrossed in admiring his setup that he almost misses the out of place figurine on his desk. </p><p>What the hell… Isn’t this…. </p><p>“TY?” Johnny says aloud, eyebrows furrowing as he picks up the figurine that he’s pretty sure he just dunked into the bin yesterday… </p><p>Whatever, Yuta probably did this to piss him off or something, Johnny thinks, pushing TY out of his mind and logging into his Twitch and Steam accounts, steeling himself for another day of streaming for a bunch of smooth brainers. </p><p>Another gruelling session finished, Johnny yawns, cracking his knuckles and getting ready to lay into Yuta for digging through the trash to prank him. Snatching the figurine off from his desk, he stomps into the kitchen, where Yuta is yet again eating through his piles of leaves. </p><p>“Really fucking funny dude, you could probably quit accounting right now and just start up your prank channel. Seriously, I was literally laughing my fucking ass off at this, you’ve really outdone yourself this time Yuta.” </p><p>“…What the hell are you going on about?” </p><p>Johnny scoffs. Is this the game Yuta wants to play tonight? He slams the plastic figure down, table still shaking from the impact. </p><p>“Oh are the cameras still recording? You still trying to act like you’re not the most irritating roommate in the entire city?” </p><p>“Genuinely, I have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about.” </p><p>“This figurine, Jesus Christ!” He booms, waving his arms wildly about. “I threw it in the trash, and yet there it was, on my desk, acting like it pays rent too.” </p><p>“You think I put it there?” Yuta splutters, eyes narrowing dangerously. </p><p>“Well gee, why don’t I ask our other roommates.” Johnny makes a big show of looking around. “Oh wait, we don’t have any other ones.” </p><p>“Fuck you dude, I didn’t touch your stupid figurine.” Yuta rolls his eyes, flipping Johnny the bird. </p><p>“Oh real great, real convincing. I’m shoving this down the bottom of the shared bins, and we’ll see if you’re desperate enough for attention to dig it back up again.” </p><p>Yuta scowls at him, flipping his bleached hair out of his eyes to give Johnny a proper glower. </p><p>Not paying him any mind, Johnny heads down to the dumpsters on the side of the dingy apartment building. The smell is nauseating, but Johnny pushes through, wanting to make sure he’s rid of the stupid figurine once and for all. He grabs a long tree branch and hooks TY right onto the end of it, all the better to push it through the garbage. </p><p>“Try and get this you dumbass.” Johnny snickers to no one in particular, gleefully shoving the stick as far as it can go, while trying not to touch the putrid mass within the bins. Ugh, he’s literally on the verge of throwing up, but it’s all worth it. He lets the stick drop into the trash pile and steps back, rubbing his hands together for good measure. </p>
<hr/><p>The next day starts with the same old, same old. Johnny lumbers out of bed and into the kitchen, grabbing the half-eaten pack of Oreos and trudging back to his room. He goes through the exact same motions, same as yesterday, and the day before, and the day before, (but not the day before that, because he went to go watch a movie by himself). He sits down in his gamer chair and mulls over his workspace once again, and once again his eye catches on the anomaly on the table. That damn figurine again! The wretched thing stands, tilting a bit, like it’s taunting Johnny.</p><p> No way… Johnny rubs at his head. He only has a faint memory of seeing it, and then throwing it away? Was there something to do with Yuta? He’s sitting, hunched over and trying his best to recall, but for the life of him, everything in his memories about the figurine is all fuzzy and feverish. Something to do with anime…. and Yuta?….. Why the hell would Yuta give him anything, let alone an anime figurine… He shakes his head like a wet dog, and sits back up, trying to push TY out of his head as he starts up the stream and goes about his business. </p><p>Try is evidently the keyword here, as Johnny keeps finding his eyes wandering back to the piece of plastic on his desk. It’s just so weird. How did he get the figurine? Has he always had it? Why does his head hurt so much thinking about it? He stares into that blank, smooth exterior as if TY’s going to suddenly come to life and answer his questions. Johnny doesn’t realise just how long he’s been staring until the “Game Set” rings and Johnny scrambles to look at the screen. Holy shit. He immediately switches to chat and it’s a giant flood of “wtf”, kappa emotes and general distress. He has apparently been sitting silently for the past few minutes as his character got absolutely beat to hell and back.</p><p> Jesus fucking christ.</p><p> He quickly apologises and explains what went over him, much to the amusement of his audience. He gets a flood of omegaluls and "just throw it out dumb fuck", which kind of pisses him off. Why hasn’t he thrown it out yet? It’s not like he likes the character. Hell, he doesn’t even know what TY is even from. But he can’t remember how long he’s had it for either, and his head is starting to throb again. All he knows is that this figurine is fucking him up. He decides that he’s going to end the stream early and get some fresh air, something he hasn’t had in days. Maybe that’s why his head aches so much. </p><p>He grabs his keys and the figurine, thinking he can dump him in some park trash can or whatever and heads out. The first thing he does is take a giant breath. And coughs. Figures the cheap rent would put them right around the never-ending construction site. He decides he’ll head to KFC for dinner, or breakfast, judging by the low, deep orange sun in the horizon. It’s not an eventful trip, and he finishes eating pretty quickly. </p><p>As he’s reaching into his pocket to fumble for change, he brushes against the smooth hardness of the figurine. Oh yeah, he almost forgot the whole entire reason he came outside. He pays and strolls to the nearby park. It’s a sad sight. The playground is barren and rusted. The trees are mere ghosts of what they should be, bare branches shivering pitifully against the strong autumn wind. Johnny shivers too. It’s uncomfortable being outside, and even more so with this silly little thing weighing down his sweat-pant pockets. He stops in front of the metal trash bin and takes the figure out. </p><p>He tries to read its expression. Is it sad, knowing that it’s going to be abandoned in this shitty metal jail, where it’ll be inevitably churned into absolute mush by the trash compactors, but not before being smeared by a whole host of whatever the fuck will be thrown into this can? Johnny stares into its black, unreadable eyes before he realises he’s being crazy again and shakes his head. </p><p>“Goodbye TY, rip in pepperoni, you won’t be missed.” And with a flourish, the figurine is finally out of his hands, dropped with a loud clang into the depths of the bin. Johnny makes a sign of the cross for showy shits and giggles and walks away, looking straight on ahead, back home. He gets back to the apartment and stumbles straight into bed, eyes closing as soon as he hits the mattress. His dreams are filled with black and yellow static. Dead, cold spheres and hard, sharp edges.</p>
<hr/><p>Johnny rolls over and thunk! His head hits the edge of the bedside drawer and he swears, profusely. Lying on his side and clutching at his throbbing head, he thrashes around the bed and laments. What a great fucking morning this is turning out to be. After a few more minutes of proverbially licking at his wounds, he slides off the bed and drags himself to the bathroom to wipe away the drool and sweat he accumulated last night. Jesus he hasn’t felt this groggy since he pulled a triple all-nighter. He heads back to his room and, to add insult to injury, or maybe just more injury to injury, his foot slams down on a hard piece of plastic. </p><p>“FFFFFFFF-” is all Johnny can manage before he tumbles down onto the dirty carpet and grabs at his foot, wincing in agony. He pats his hands around for the offending object and grabs it, whipping it around so he can glower at it. It’s an anime figurine… Johnny furrows his eyebrows. Why does this feel kind of like deja vu…. He stares at the figurine. Plain black bob, with an unassuming black and yellow jumper and black jeans. What the fuck kind of anime is this from? Looking at it, he swears he’s had this for eons. But why’s he just now actually seeing it? The more he thinks about it, the more his head start to throb, so much so that he feels queasy. He stands up and the blood all rushes from his head, further adding to his pain, and he stumbles to the kitchen. </p><p>He barely sees that Yuta is there, eating more fucking salad, and Yuta doesn’t acknowledge his entrance, which is just fine by him. He only just realises that the figurine is still in his hand, and he slams it down on the kitchen table, freeing his hands up to pour some cereal and probably not expired milk. </p><p>“What’s TY.” </p><p>“Good morning to you too.” </p><p>“It’s 3pm.” </p><p>Johnny thinks that enough interacting with Yuta for the day, but Yuta is insistent, repeating his question and lobbing a scrunched up tissue at Johnny. </p><p>“Fuck if I know, it’s just some figurine I found in my bedroom.” </p><p>“Was it from like an anime or game or whatever?” </p><p>“I don’t know.” </p><p>Yuta continues to study the figurine. Johnny pours his milk and cereal together and notices Yuta hasn’t said anything the entire time. He turns to go sit down and eat and finds Yuta with his head in his hands and his eyes squeezed shut. </p><p>“Fuck dude, I have a serious migraine right now.” </p><p>“Uhhh…” </p><p>“Don’t talk to me, you’ll only make it worse.” Yuta slowly stands up and starts to shuffle to his room, muttering. “I swear I feel like we’ve had this exact conversation…” </p><p>Johnny takes the figurine back into his hands. TY huh? It feels like he’s heard that moniker a thousand times and never in his life. It’s well made he guesses, and he’s probably had it for a while? Maybe that knock into the drawer wiped his memory about TY? As if I don’t have enough brain damage, Johnny snickers to himself. He dumps the bowl into the sink and, TY in tow, goes about his daily grind.</p>
<hr/><p>Aside from the whole stabbing his foot ordeal, Johnny no longer cares about TY’s existence. It stands, ever staring and stone-faced, right beside his PC. Johnny finds himself looking over at it when his screens are loading, or when there’s a long wait time in the lobby, or even just after a stream. It’s just nice? He thinks, reasoning with himself before realising he shouldn’t need an excuse to look at his own damn possessions. It is weird though. He just finds himself spending more and more time staring at the figurine. </p><p>It’s like Narcissus, except he’s not even staring at himself, not like there’d be anything to look at. It’s just got an interesting quality to it, like TY’s face is so blank and unreadable that Johnny takes it as a challenge. TY is hiding something for sure. There’s gotta be a story behind those obsidian black eyes right? Johnny continues to find himself looking over at the figurine. He even moves it from the desk to the bedside drawer when he’s getting into bed, where he can stare at TY until he falls asleep. It’s not like he’s doing anything else anyway right? </p><p>He’s gotten into the habit (or non-habit) of not switching his lights off anymore, because he falls asleep staring at TY. It’s certainly a better dining companion that Yuta, who laughed until he fell off the chair when he first saw that Johnny unironically bought TY into the dining room to look at him while he ate. After the first week Yuta’s face was less mirthful glee and more judgmental disgust. Whatever, TY could beat Yuta any day of the month visually, Johnny thought, chewing his fish fingers while staring at TY. </p><p>He starts showering in colder water, trying not to fog up the glass too much, lest the fog obscures his view of TY. He can barely stand to tear his eyes away, finding himself staying up longer and longer each night, just lying down on his mattress and gazing at TY. The thing that’s suffered the most has most definitely been his streams. All he’ll do is look over at TY, which shouldn’t take that long right? Just a short glance surely? The next moment he looks back at his monitor, the chat is flooded with complaints. “tf? you haven’t moved in 10 minutes?” and “well he just died and we’ve been stuck on the stand by screen for 5 minutes…monkaS.”</p><p> Johnny finds that he doesn’t actually care that much, even though his donations and subscriptions sure do, hitting an all-time low. It gets to the point where he will completely forget to stream on certain days, content to just lie in bed, eyes on TY. Johnny should be worried that he might not be able to make rent…But he just literally can’t. He can’t seem to gather the energy to care about anything really. Every time he looks at the little figurine, it’s like all his worries, all his thoughts, all his energy is sucked away, and all he wants to do is stare into the shiny, smooth surface of TY’s perfectly sculpted face. </p><p>He gets lucky today, getting enough energy and brain cells to remember to stream, but his heart just isn’t in it. He keeps looking back at his figurine like a lifeline. That certainly doesn’t help his gameplay. He gets killed more times than he can count, and his shots more often than not, completely miss their target. It would almost be funny if it wasn't so disappointing. A while into the stream, Johnny starts to feel a familiar pressure building in his lower abdomen. Shit, he needs to pee. BTY(Before TY) he’d have no qualms just pausing the game and telling his chat to wait, but too much is crowding his mind. He’s trying to at least not get eliminated, and he also wants to keep glancing at his TY, and what was he trying to do again?</p><p> He sits like that, trying to press down the increasingly urgent warnings his body is sending him. His hands and head are too full…he can’t think….He looks around in confusion before his eyes land back on TY again. He starts to feel that soothing, numbing sensation seep into his brain again. It makes him stop worrying about whatever he was worried about. If it was that important, he’d remember it right? This tug of war between his body and brain continues to push and build until Johnny’s legs are shaking and pressed together. </p><p>He genuinely doesn’t want to get up out of his chair. That’s so much work. Pausing the game, telling his chat to chill out for a bit, standing up, bringing TY with him to the bathroom, finding a good position to put TY, pulling his pants down…Johnny’s getting exhausted just thinking about it. All that work when he could just keep staring at TY and clicking around on his mouse and keyboard… Honestly…. what’s the harm in just not moving?…. His hand grips the mouse as he rocks side to side, trying to alleviate the monumental pressure, but it’s no use anymore. It’s been too long and his body gives up trying to reason with his brain. </p><p>The next thing he feels is a disgustingly warm sensation trickle down his legs. Holy shit. It actually happened. He actually pissed himself like a little helpless baby. Except he’s a grown-ass man with no urinary problems. He feels like he’s been bludgeoned in the head. Johnny panics and closes the stream, trying to angle his legs in a way that the fluids don’t escape and drip down onto the wooden floorboards. He actually feels a little sick. Pants scrunched up as strategically as he can, he races to the bathroom to rinse his legs off.</p><p> He grimaces at the embarrassingly wide patch of wetness that’s formed. He takes a second to realise what just happened. He’s pissed his pants because he was too fucking engrossed in staring at a fucking anime(???) figurine. He can’t even pretend that it was just for the game, because he’s never been that desperate. His brain starts going haywire and Johnny stumbles back to his bedroom and into his bed, clutching at his hair and squeezing his eyes shut. The last thing he sees before his eyes close is TY, posing innocently, looking over at him with those empty eyes.</p>
<hr/><p>It’s been a few weeks since then, and Johnny would be lying if he said things were becoming better. He misses most of his streams, barely leaves his room, sometimes goes without food for days at a time. And all of it with TY. He just physically can’t separate himself from the thing. It’s on his mind 24/7 and his eyes the hours he’s awake. He feels so exhausted every day, but he doesn’t want to do anything except stare at TY. His days pass by like sand trickling through his fingers. He’s never gonna get them back, but why bother? it’s just sand. It’s another day of lying in bed and ogling his precious figurine, until all of a sudden Yuta bashes on his door. </p><p>“Johnny you fucker are you in there?” </p><p>Johnny lets out a non-committal groan and Yuta bursts through the door, sharp eyes narrowed into daggers as he furiously charges into Johnny’s bedroom. </p><p>“What the fuck happened to your share of the rent this month?” Yuta seethes. “Nancy said she’s gonna fucking evict both of us if you don’t get your shit together and pay your god damn share!”</p><p>What’s there to say? Johnny thinks, continuing to looking into TY’s pitch-black eyes. </p><p>Yuta gives it a few seconds before he humourlessly laughs. </p><p>“You’ve gone insane. I didn’t care what the fuck you were doing with that stupid anime figurine shit as long as you kept paying rent, but you’re really crazy now.” Yuta stomps over to where Johnny’s laying and snatches TY. Johnny hasn’t moved this fast in months. </p><p>“Yuta, so god help me, put down my fucking possession.” The only thing he really has going for is his height, which he uses to full effect, towering over Yuta in as threatening a manner as he can muster. </p><p>Undeterred, Yuta spits back, “Then pay your rent!” </p><p>“I don’t have anything so just give my back my TY!” Johnny roars, hands lashing out to grab at Yuta’s, who moves a little too slow. Both their hands are wrapped firmly around the plastic figurine, as it looks on at the scene, impassive. </p><p>“You stupid bitch! Fuck you! I’ll sell this piece of shit and use the 5 quarters it’ll get me on the rent!” Yuta hisses, trying his hardest to tug TY away from Johnny. </p><p>His priceless TY, his reason to breathe, his escape from this cruel world, his muse, his everything he’s ever and will ever want. He screams in anger and starts heaving in the opposite direction, trying to wrestle TY from the obnoxious clutches of Yuta. They’re both in deadlock, shifting back and forth around the room as both desperately try to pry the other’s grip on the figurine. They glower at each other, what little tolerance they both had from having to live together all but evaporated, just pure hatred and disdain for the other left in its place. Johnny tries for a different angle, seeing as Yuta won’t budge, and just when Yuta’s using the full force of his strength to pull away TY, Johnny forcefully lets go. </p><p>Yuta gets flung violently back, having no stabilisation whatsoever. Johnny gleefully revels in the way Yuta’s face goes into shock as he’s falling back. It almost feels like a movie, the way he seems to fall back in slow motion. What he falls onto isn’t the floor however. At one point, their struggle reached the desk where Johnny’s PC sits. Yuta falls back with a loud and sickening crunch, head banging right on the corner of the table, before flopping down onto the ground. Johnny goes deathly silent. </p><p>He doesn’t dare breath, impatiently waiting to see if Yuta will continue to scrabble with him for the figurine. The few seconds he waits feel like hours, and he quickly goes to check TY’s condition. If TY got inadvertently busted by the two of them fighting…. He checks over TY’s body diligently, but nothing’s out of place. His legs are still ramrod straight, his tiny arms by his side, and eyes staring coldly into Johnny. </p><p>Breathing a sigh of relief, he tries to go into the kitchen to get some tissues to wipe away the thumbprints on the figurine until his foot bumps into a weird flesh-like texture. Oh right, Yuta. Johnny leans over, getting ready to push Yuta out of the way if he doesn’t get up. It’s weird that he’s still on the floor, Johnny thinks. Another one of his ways to piss him off, he concludes. He reaches under his head and immediately stiffens. It’s wet. </p><p>Johnny moves his hand back and forth over the spot. It’s wet, and it keeps getting wetter. It feels like there’s a dent too. Why would a dent be there? Johnny’s heart stops, chest heaving. He can’t seem to get enough oxygen in his body. Trembling, he takes his hand out from underneath Yuta’s head, and he retches, sprinting to the bathroom. It’s covered in crimson, viscous blood. He crashes into the sink and vomits. </p><p>The sting of stomach acid burns at his throat, lack of having eaten anything exacerbating the soreness. Yuta’s….No fucking way. No fucking way in hell, Yuta just fell back onto his desk, there’s no legitimate way someone could… Johnny can’t finish that train of thought, because he’s vomiting again. Tears burn at his eyes, and he runs the sink, scrubbing and scratching at his hands to wash the blood off. He races back to his room and puts a finger against Yuta’s nose. </p><p>There’s nothing.</p><p>Johnny puts his head against Yuta’s chest. Absolutely no movement. Johnny feels like vomiting again. He looks around to see TY lying on its helpless side and Johnny doesn’t hesitate to grab it, shoving himself off the floor like a sprinter. In a second he’s out the door, nothing but TY in his hands. He almost trips on the stairs a couple of times as he runs down, skipping multiple at a time. He’s gotta get the fuck out of there. He doesn’t even know where he’s going, sheer terror pulling him into the street once he exits the apartment building. Not once does he look back, tunnel vision forcing him to only run forward. He doesn’t even know if he bumps into anyone on the way, everything becoming a blur as he runs, legs burning with exertion. </p><p>Johnny doesn’t stop until he’s forced to because he trips, rolling down a steep hill, stray rocks and pebbles coming up to flick him in the face and dent at his body. Just like the dent at the back of…Johnny retches again, but thank god nothing comes out. He finally comes to a stop, and finds himself next to a low bridge over green murky river water. He stumbles down into the underside of the bridge and lies down. His body is still shaking rapidly, goosebumps covering his skin despite the heat and buckets of sweat he’s radiating. He heaves, struggling to breathe. </p><p>His head feels like it’s going to burst, bones feeling like they will disintegrate at a moment’s notice. His ears ring in his head and he didn’t notice before, but tears and snot have been streaming down his face, skin underneath rubbed raw and sensitive. Johnny weakly uncurls his hand, standing TY up. Thank god, TY’s still in pristine condition. His beautifully sculpted body, the intricate details of his clothes so painstakingly recreated, and those eyes. Those two pinpricks of deep black, watching over Johnny, even now, as he wastes away under a dingy overpass next to sewer water. </p><p>Johnny angles himself a bit, angles TY a bit until he gets them both in the perfect position, and goes back to what he was doing. He looks at TY. He looks at TY and he cries inside and he bleeds, but he keeps on looking.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hello and thank you for making it to the end! </p><p>lmao i won't lie, i'm creatively bankrupt on more ideas for haunted doll!taeyong. all i have is a half baked doyoung concept. if you have any ideas, wanna see something else, or just even talk about nct i'm here on <a href="https://twitter.com/wrenlans">twt</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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